Page 97 of Obsessed by My Ex's Mafia Uncle

Christine moves in the same breath, quicker than she wants me to notice, bending to gather the bags I dropped, her fingers brushing against mine for half a second before she pulls back like contact is something she’s measuring now.

“So this is what we’re doing now?” Her voice comes out dry. “No one gave me the memo.” She straightens with the bags in her hands. “Unannounced visits with groceries?”

I hear the edge in her tone, but I ignore it all the same.

She exhales, pushing the door wider with her foot, stepping aside just enough to make space.

“Come in,” she adds, the sarcasm not fully masking the fact that she’s letting me.

I step inside.

Blue shifts slightly in my arms, turning her head to look at the floor like she’s checking something important.

“Shoes.” She pouts, suddenly serious.

I glance down, then back at her.

“Take them off,” she adds, nodding like she’s explaining something obvious.

“Yes, Ma’am.” I do, balancing her easily with one arm as I slip them off with the other, arranging them neatly by the door without needing to be told twice.

She watches the entire process with deep interest and a slight degree of scrutiny.

“Good.” She nods, satisfied. “Very good.”

I almost smile. Almost.

She turns back toward the sitting room immediately, her attention already moving ahead of us.

“I was watching something,” she tells me, like I’m already part of it. “It’s nice. And there’s popcorn.”

I follow where she’s looking to the glow of the TV with colors flickering, and voices singing something repetitive.

“Cocomelon,” she adds, proud of herself.

“Really?” I let out a quiet breath through my nose. “Is that so?”

“Yes,” she nods, then leans in slightly, lowering her voice like she’s about to share something important. “You can come and watch.”

She pauses, pulls back just enough to look at her mother, her eyes dropping.

“Can he join me?” She asks in a conspiratory tone.

Christine stands there for a second, the bags still in her hands, her eyes moving between us like she’s recalculating something that’s already out of her control.

“He can.” Finally, she nods, but I can tell it’s costing her something.

I see it.

“Oh.” Aisha doesn’t bother hiding hers, leaning back into the couch, a bowl of popcorn in her lap, her entire body language shifting the moment I step into view. “Wow,” she drawls, her gaze dragging over me like she’s assessing damage before it’s even been done. “This is… unexpected.”

Blue ignores her completely, already pinching at my shirt like she’s steering me where she wants.

“Come,” she insists.

I move, while Aisha’s eyes stay on me the entire time, unwelcoming, her mouth curving into something that isn’t a smile.

“You lost or something?” She adds, her tone light but not friendly.